Nautica Blue

Just me and your poetry tonight... talalalala

<3<3

Wow. I could just feel the longing in this poem...a longing for that person who represents this scent. It's crazy how a slight whiff of a certain scent can represent a person and take you back to a time when they were in your life. Your descriptions here were just wonderful. Reading the second stanza brought the scents alive for me as if they were dancing around the tip of my nose and telling me about this person you described.

"I never thought my palms would miss
the calluses that decorate your hands "
^Ah there is so much here! My favorite.

I just feel like giving you long funny comments like I used to. but I can't gather my thoughts well. I can't find ways to describe my feelings towards pieces anymore. its like I've lost the love I had for poetry. I can't lose myself in it anymore.. all I can manage nowadays, is "brilliant write" or "how lovely"... its like I lost something. I write and everything. but it just doesn't feel the same.

regardless of everything and me now being a shallow bastard who can't seem to enjoy anything i once loved anymore.

I still want to say, that I have read this several times. that you write still as beautiful, as before I lost my love for poetry.

and that me, not being able to comment like I wish I could. does not mean that I wasn't move, or felt amazed by your metaphors.

and that ending felt like a punch in the face,
how poignant and bitter.

you just get better and better,
ain't no doubt about that.

I love you.

Amazing. You still shine as if the sun has never set on your side, Mel! :)

"I never thought my palms would miss
the calluses that decorate your hands but
you are a handwritten letter"
^
My favorite.

Have you ever thought that writing sad poems make readers actually feel better? That's what yours did to me.

And thanks for explaining the camomile part! :)

Love.

Another lovely write from you and....while I don't think I'll be anywhere near close to giving a full interpretation I will give it a go because....as usual this is very intriguing.

Poets write of loneliness
where knuckles lay straight and fingers beg
each other to succumb to an unconnected
romance.
^^^^

This part I'm thinking could be a romance..a relectant one I may add...between you fingers and a pen...you want to write something but your fingers won't let you pick up the damn pen?
I never thought my palms would miss
the calluses that decorate your hands but
you are a handwritten letter, the one I
probably should have left.

The first part of this I'd say...these can't that you miss were one's of someone who worked hard at their job....I know the title of the poem would indicate someone who goes to sea but...I honestly don;t know why but....trady sprung to my mind haha!!! I'm going to be honest and say I don;t really know what the second part is about.

I have never been the type to
memorize a scent but you are a tropical
morning of golden pineapples and water lilies,
sandal wood, forgotten jasmine and a bitten
peach that seduces even the most untempted
of ants. You are the morning musk I dread
when my body meets my bed and tonight
I realized mattresses are something like love:

Maybe subconciously we do remember certain smells although, at the time, we don't register them and....maybe now that this person is not there the smells are more acute?

you can sleep a King and I'll sleep single,
knowing camomile kisses are a sign of
sickness and a hundred hours spent
counting the 304 days since you left.

^^^^

Such a sad part to this wonderful poem but also very creative...much better than saying sleeping alone now... The ending well....what can I say...very good way to end this sad story.

Although I still don't fully understand your poems I do feel you've opened up a lot more in the past 6 months so...good on you!